


Coming With A Bang

by badboy_fangirl



Category: Prison Break
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 07:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10566054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badboy_fangirl/pseuds/badboy_fangirl
Summary: Yikesabee. Linc at his darkest (and hopefully AU-est).





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the 40 fics challenge at foxriver_fic. This is as weird and twisted as I will ever get, I think. Various lines lifted from the show.
> 
> Written in second person

_**Your timing’s all wrong, lady.**_  
The first time you see her, you think she looks familiar, but then she’s obviously flirting with you and you realize it’s just your cock that recognizes her. She could be someone to ease the ache, someone to be the first after such a long time.  
  
But you tell her it’s not the right time and you try to walk away.  
  
That’s when you figure out that you did know who she is: another shadowy figure in a long line of people who are trying to kill you.  
  
_**You know, they told me that your brother got all the brains, but I didn’t think you were this stupid.**_  
She surprises you by waiting for you in your hotel room. It doesn’t surprise you that she knows about the book, so handing it over is a gesture you try to make look difficult.   
  
You know you should be more scared of her; she’s threatened LJ and Sara, but there is something about her that doesn’t create fear inside you. She’s scared too—of what, you can only begin to guess—and it doesn’t make her more sympathetic to you. Meaning, you don’t feel sorry for her. In fact, you’d like to beat the shit out of her, because then maybe you wouldn’t feel so helpless as you look at your brother through a cyclone fence.  
  
You notice she’s always dressed up—like one of those girls you knew in high school that always put on more make up in the bathroom at lunch time. It’s a random, sour thought at the back of your mind that those were the kind of girls you hung around with when you and Veronica were on the outs.   
  
_**You have a better chance of banging me on that bar then you do of talking to her.**_  
You feel like you need to clean out your ears after that, and your mind for that matter, because what kind of prick would even consider it?  
  
She’s evil. It oozes from her. She’s most likely done horrible things to your son and your brother’s girlfriend. She doesn’t strike you as the type that just leaves her hostages tied up in the back room. She probably torments them with promises of hurting them physically, if not actually inflicting pain upon them. She seems so cold and calculating that fucking her would undoubtedly feel about as good as getting money from the ATM machine.   
  
But you still think about it. You still wonder how it would be if you could fuck her as hard as you want to. Because if you did, she’d have a hard time walking afterwards. Maybe it would give you the upper hand. Maybe you should do it.  
  
She walks away, her hips swaying just the right amount. She’s not overt, she’s just right—at least when it comes to the subtleties of sex, and that’s a thought you wish you’d never had at all.  
  
_**Just soldiers, Linc. Different armies, but soldiers just the same.**_  
You can’t hate yourself more than you already do—unless she ends up killing LJ. If this buys a small piece of good will, you’re willing to whore yourself out. You have nothing left except your son anyway. You saw Michael’s face—you heard Michael’s words, “You and The Company have something in common”—and all you have left is LJ. You have to save him.  
  
So you decide to fuck her. You meet her in the lobby-bar just like you do every day and you report on your brother’s efforts. She doesn’t look pleased, but really when has she ever? So you motion with your head toward the back. You move your eyes to the storage closet you’ve both walked by every day for over a week now. Then you walk away, telling yourself if she follows you, you’ll do it. If she doesn’t, it’s out of your hands.  
  
When she slips through the door behind you, you suddenly remember the first time you saw her and how she smiled and the way she moved her head so that her hair shifted off of her face. She had reminded you of Veronica, for just a split second—the dark hair, the pale eyes, the look of appreciation as her gaze traced over your body—and there, in that storage closet against a box labeled  _Wild Turkey_ , you yank up her black skirt and strip off her red lace thong and shove yourself mercilessly inside her. She’s not entirely ready, but then again, neither are you.  
  
It’s for Sara, for Michael, for your heart ever mistaking her for the beautiful, sweet woman who gave up her life for you, Lincoln Burrows, that you punish yourself. You move inside her harshly until her perfect nails claw at your sides through your blue t-shirt and she’s panting and moaning uncontrollably and when she comes, her whole body seizes up, as if it’s closing around yours like a death trap. Your head falls back on your shoulders and your hips plunge more fiercely, but it’s not enough, you’re not getting there, and you need to get there—you  _have_  to get there. Your hands reach for her legs to spread her wider, your elbows hooking under her knees and jerking her harder against you. Then it’s just white heat and hot gushing fluid and you think maybe you’re bleeding out through your cock and there will be nothing left for LJ even if you manage to rescue him.  
  
In the aftermath, she doesn’t bother putting her underwear back on, but she does pick them up to dangle in front of your face. “This isn’t a full service date, huh? No kissing,” she says, her voice conversational, her face lacking the usual sneer.  
  
You hadn’t thought about it, but you realize now that you would never have let your mouth touch hers, or touch her body in anyway.  _It’s not part of the plan_ , and you can hear Michael’s voice in your head as surely as if he were standing behind you, but something inside you has fractured permanently with this act.  
  
You feel your lips curve up into a smile, and you let your eyes bore into hers for a long moment, long enough she thinks you’re about to come at her again, and you do, only you push her up against the wall, one hand around her throat. You’re giving her a moment to feel the foreshadowing, but she misses it. She smiles in response and her eyes darken with desire, and you know she has no idea. You finally have the upper hand, and it feels fucking amazing, certainly much better than what just happened.  
  
You lean down, holding your mouth over hers just slightly, as though you might actually kiss her, letting your breath tease her lips. Then you whisper, “Turn around,” and she does as you command so quickly, she doesn’t feel you lift the gun from the back waistband of her still-hiked up skirt. You press her to the wall with your body, rubbing yourself rhythmically against her until your cock starts to harden again. It shouldn’t be possible, you should need more recovery time, but as you press the gun barrel to her temple, you feel more aroused than ever before in your life. The silencer you saw when she killed the Sona gravedigger the day before is still on it and you realize she must kill everyone as quietly as possible—except for Sara. That wasn’t how Sara died.  
  
You pull the trigger and come against her ass at the same moment.


End file.
